


Restless

by satori_ghost



Category: Naruto
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Nightmares, hashirama makes a brief appearance, soft kakuhida time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 09:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satori_ghost/pseuds/satori_ghost
Summary: Kakuzu wakes from a nightmare and is comforted by his partner. He realizes maybe they aren't so different after all.
Relationships: Hidan/Kakuzu (Naruto)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 147
Collections: Akatsuki Gift Exchange





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akatzombie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=akatzombie).



> This is my gift for the Akatsuki Gift Exchange 2019! I pounded this bad boy out after failing at several other prompts I was thinking of doing. I'm so happy akatzombie was my giftee as they're a dear friend of mine. I really hope you enjoy this!

Run.

It’s the only thing Kakuzu can think.

Over and over again.

Run.

His feet slammed into damp earth, mud squishing between his bare toes. The thunder of the waterfall was far behind him now, his shredded clothes still damp from bursting through the water. The shinobi guarding the gate had been too shocked watching him run headfirst into the rapids to stop him. The falls didn’t slam him into the rocks as they should have, and once gatekeepers realized he had escaped the village, they were in pursuit.

Each breath felt like needles in Kakuzu’s chest. His veins surged with blood pumping faster than it ever should have. The fresh sutures holding his body together throbbed red and angry. And he could feel _them_ , whatever they were, worming inside of him like snakes.

Kakuzu lurched forward into the dirt. Blood rushed into his ears, drowning out the noise of the birds and the stream bubbling nearby. A patch of sun shone through the canopy of leaves above, the sweat glistening through the filth caked onto his face. His head pounded with a fivefold ferocity.

He clasped his bloodstained hands over his ears, his terror whipping through him like a typhoon. It wasn’t until he squeezed his eyes shut that he realized he had been crying, warm tears dripping onto the grass. He sobbed loud and ugly, his body quaking under the weight of what he’d done.

Everything was wrong. So wrong. The fury that had spurred his rampage not even a full hour ago had dissipated to smoke on the wind. He was left with the cold indifference of reality.

He lowered his hands, looked at them between swollen lids. The three-day old tattoos laid bare, blue-black slashes on his arms. They had scabbed, some yellowing spots threatening infection. The sight of them only wrenched another pitiful whimper from his throat.

He was twenty-two years old and he was a traitor. A murderer. A criminal. A failure.

Takigakure was left in chaos after he massacred his way from the archives to the inner council rooms. He fully believed his village had reaped what it had sown. But Taki gave him its revenge before he had taken his own. Seeking a normal life, as normal a life a shinobi could have, was out of the question now that he was branded.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around himself.

Agony tore through his back, his flesh feeling as though it would rip apart. With barely an inkling of how the Jiongu would react in his body, Kakuzu struggled to control it. The power was terrible. The chakra was too much. He may have made it out of Taki alive, but how far would he be able to go like this?

Even if he survived and mastered the kinjutsu, what was left for him?

He leaned forward, his body closed into a fetal position. He pressed his forehead into the ground, the dirt as black as his future.

The smell of the soil only made him think of when he lay half dead in the dirt at the feet of his last assignment. Would things have been different had he succeeded? What if he had fled, like the Hokage had urged him to? Kakuzu was a fool to think he could defeat Hashirama Senju in open battle, and his village was a fool to think they could carry out an assassination with a handful of fresh Jōnin.

It wasn’t until after his weeping ceased that he realized the sun was no longer shining. Cold settled around him, his teeth chattering. It had fallen dark.

But it wasn’t normal darkness.

No longer in the grass, wood bit into his knees. His heart leapt into his throat as he smelled cedar and metal. A strong wind rustled the leaves in a way unusual to his home. He was in Konoha again.

Goosebumps prickled over his skin as he felt someone watching him. Humiliated and afraid, he snapped his head up, finding himself in the shadow of a form he had grown very familiar with these last few weeks. Silver moonlight glinted off the edges of red armor.

He gasped but he couldn’t breathe in. The taste of copper was sharp in his mouth. His lungs rattled in his chest, each breath creating a sickening gargle of fluid. He was broken and battered, twisted back into defeat.

“Would it have been easier if I killed you?”

Kakuzu ground his teeth together. Hashirama’s words were laced with pity.

“You should have known better than to return,” the Hokage went on, “They would have rather you driven your blade into your belly than crawled home like a coward.”

He knew what happened, as if he had foreseen every gritty detail of Kakuzu’s torture and imprisonment.

None if this was making any sense. Why was he here again? Hashirama Senju never spoke like this to him after he failed his mission. Kakuzu could still feel the Jiongu inside him.

He understood. His body surged with chakra. His five hearts beat in unison. He wasn’t young and afraid anymore. Seventy years later and now he could face the one who left his life in ruins. He was in control. He was strong.

He lifted himself from the ground, ready to stand and show Hashirama what had become of him. What it had taken to get here. He would fulfill his mission almost a century later and return to Takigakure. With the Senju’s head on a platter and the hearts of the elders within him, he could take control of the village. He’d show Takigakure its mistake.

Threads burst from his chest and pierced the man in front of him. He didn’t notice the strangeness in how Hashirama didn’t attempt to dodge or fight back. Blood sloshed onto their feet. The Jiongu cracked open the Senju’s breastplate like an egg, frantically wrapping around the still beating heart. Five was his limit, but how could he resist?

A smile pierced grimly through his cheeks.

“Kakuzu.”

He froze. His stomach clenched so tight he thought he was going to be sick. No. This wasn’t Hashirama Senju anymore. This voice was one he hadn’t heard in almost eighty years. A fresh batch of tears stung his eyes.

“What happened to you?”

He started to look up. No, no, no, don’t look up. He didn’t want to see that face. Not now. Not after all these years. He couldn’t.

“No…” He heard himself say but hadn’t felt his tongue move. His mouth was dry, his throat aching. He couldn’t stop himself.

He stared into a face strikingly similar to his own. Scars and lines of age were hacked into the sun browned skin. For a moment, Kakuzu was so happy to see him. His weary weathered eyes, the wide nose Kakuzu failed to inherit, his lips framed by well used laugh lines. It was the same face that had smiled at him decades ago, promising it wouldn’t be a long mission. He’d be home soon, and he’d take him to the Summer festival. He’d buy his little Kakuzu as many taiyaki as he could eat. Once he came home…

A strange crackling sound drew Kakuzu’s attention. Something didn’t look right. His father’s face hollowed out in confusion. The skin around his neck and shoulders began to bulge. To Kakuzu’s horror, he realized there was something inside the body, attempting to tear its way out.

Four heads ripped through the flesh, manifesting into a grotesque human hydra still attached to him by the thin chords of the Jiongu. Kakuzu recognized them immediately even though their faces were covered in gore soaked masks. The colors struck him. Yellow, red, teal, and blue.

The heads crowded around the face of his father, who at this point hardly resembled the man in Kakuzu’s memory. They all writhed together in agony as Kakuzu tried to rip himself away from this fresh nightmare. Strong hands gripped him by the arms and pulled him closer, the elders and his father pushing against him.

All five voices boomed together in unison.

**“What have you done?!”**

Kakuzu burst upright, gasping for breath. He swallowed. There was a lump in his throat. It took a moment, but Kakuzu felt the sheets pooled around his waist, the futon beneath him, his long hair tickling his neck.

Sweat dripped between the masks embedded into his back. His hearts pounded, but they didn’t hurt him. He wasn’t covered in blood and dirt anymore. The hum of his chakra was strong, but controlled.

He abruptly looked to the other side of the room where Hidan sat by a candle. His partner was staring at him, a wet stone in one hand and a kunai in the other.

“Another nightmare?”

Kakuzu blinked, almost not recognizing the other man for a moment. He shook his head and looked away, trying to focus on getting his breathing under control. Anxiety hooked itself into his belly. When he realized his fingers were trembling, he grew frustrated.

He scrubbed his hands over his face as Hidan set aside his tools and walked over to Kakuzu’s bed. He sat himself down cross-legged. Kakuzu could see he was peering up at him in the darkness. Was he able to see the wetness in his eyes?

“You want to talk about it?” Hidan asked, his voice lacking in its usual grit.

Kakuzu considered it. “Not particularly.” He could still hear cracking bones.

“Bet you’re not going back to sleep though, huh.” Hidan rest his cheek against his fist, the soft flesh of his face squishing childishly.

Kakuzu let out a huff. There was no way he could go back to sleep after that. Every time he blinked he could see the frozen face of his father seared into the backs of his eyelids.

They sat quietly for a few minutes while he calmed down, the air punctuated by crickets and the occasional sputter of the candle.

“What were you doing up?” Kakuzu finally asked after the drumming of his hearts had slowed to a normal pace, hoping for a distraction.

“Going blind on me, grandpa? I was sharpening my tools.” Hidan sniffed.

How carefree he seemed. How… indifferent. He was the same age Kakuzu had been when it all happened. He still had baby fat rounding out his cheeks. 

“In the middle of the night?” Kakuzu looked away from the youth, his gaze drawn to the candlelight reflected in the surface of the abandoned blade. He noticed there were several other knives, each carefully placed in a row next to it.

Hidan paused, then cracked a half smile.

“I get nightmares sometimes too.”

Was he just trying to make Kakuzu feel better? He contemplated this. Hidan was a light sleeper and an early riser. Kakuzu always assumed that to be the reason he’d find the other man awake at odd hours of the night. And Hidan wasn’t like him. He wouldn’t just roll over and go back to sleep. He would get up and find something to do until he felt he tired himself out again. Or just remained awake until dawn.

_It isn’t just light sleeping_ , Kakuzu realized.

He looked at Hidan again. Even in the darkness, he could see shadows beneath Hidan’s eyes. 

“Hidan… what happened to you?” Kakuzu had never asked before. He never had an interest in how Hidan came into his abilities or how he defected from his village. Hidan had boasted enough of the carnage before he ran away to join that cult he referred to as his faith.

But Kakuzu had a feeling that there was more to it.

Hidan looked taken aback. “Um, excuse me?”

“I mean, how did you… How did you become like you are?”

Hidan seemed confused. “Like I am? You mean immortal? You know that, Jashin-sama bless-“

“No, no. Forget it, I’m not in the mood for a sermon.” Kakuzu heaved down onto the futon and rolled onto his side.

“Woah, hey! Okay listen, Kakuzu. You wanna know the physicalities of it? Huh? Is that what you’re asking?”

Kakuzu remained stubbornly turned away.

“Why are you asking me something like that all of a sudden? What did you dream about?” Hidan pressed.

Kakuzu stared at the wall, the darkness twisting strange shapes before his eyes. He felt Hidan shifting beside him until he realized he was lying next to him. He felt his warmth through the sheets.

It took a long time. Rolling over, Kakuzu expected to find Hidan asleep, but instead the monk had his eyes trained on the ceiling, his brows drawn together in an expression the elder was unable to read.

“At the temple, there were rituals…” he began, “I was eighteen and I had just left my village. When I joined the novitiate in the mountains, I had no idea what they were doing. What they were trying to do.”

Orange light outlined Hidan’s profile as he spoke, the flickering candle throwing strange shadows around the room. Kakuzu wondered what it was Hidan was seeing as he stared into the space in front of him.

“I didn’t understand any of it at first. I just did what I was told. For us we were praying, worshiping, meditating. I guess… if you look at it from an outside perspective, they were experimenting with us.”

Hidan fell quiet and Kakuzu could tell he had slipped away for a minute, reliving those early years of his priesthood.

“They tortured you.” Kakuzu stated. Torture was essentially synonymous with the word ‘experiment.’ He doubted those monks really understood the depth of what they were doing. He thought about what Orochimaru wouldn’t give to get his hands on a few of those ignorant zealots, but he knew Hidan’s mother temple was destroyed, and finding another Jashinist seemed about as easy as breathing underwater. 

The boy filled his lungs.

“I guess so,” he exhaled.

“When did you change?”

“Hmm…” Hidan thought about it, “Just after my twenty-second birthday.”

Kakuzu furrowed his brows. “They tortured you for four years.”

“I mean, it’s not really like it sounds, but sure. Yeah.”

The candle sputtered out and the room went completely dark. The shutters rattled in the wind.

He couldn’t quite imagine it. Hidan willingly allowing others to inflict excruciating pain on him like that when he would whine over getting a scratch during a fight or having a wound stitched. He especially couldn’t imagine it considering Hidan wasn’t even immortal yet. He could have been killed. In fact, there probably had been many before him that were. Hidan was the success story.

“Why did you go through with it?” Kakuzu asked, though he felt he already knew the answer.

“What else could I do?” Kakuzu felt the sheets tug as Hidan shrugged. “Not like I could go home.”

Kakuzu closed his eyes. When he had first met Hidan, he couldn’t relate to him. He was young and arrogant. Loud and stupid. Fanatical. He was so aggravating, Kakuzu killed him several times over, only to have him pop back up again like a wart. Now here they were, lying side by side, sharing in a moment that proved them not to be so different after all.

“Did you want to go home?” Kakuzu felt embarrassed to ask it, vulnerability curdling inside him like soured milk.

“Sometimes. But there was nothing left for me there. And at the end of the day, the monks had become my family.”

Family. That was it. That was why he put up with it all. Hidan had just given him the answer. He didn’t have parents. Very little tied him to his village, and when his only means of survival was stripped from him, he ran to a community that would welcome and accept him with open arms. Even if it meant enduring the unbearable.

Kakuzu had been alone after he defected. He had to do everything himself. Learning, working, fixing his mistakes. No one held his hand through any of it. Each relationship he managed to cultivate ended in either betrayal or death. Sometimes both. He had to learn to place his trust in something that never let him down.

He envied Hidan. But a thought crossed his mind that he quickly shot down. It was out of character for him to think that, especially in regards to his idiot partner.

_I’m glad you didn’t have to be alone, too._

Hidan sat up and stretched. “Well, if you’re good, I think I’m gonna turn in. Didn’t you say we had to go to Kumo tomorrow?”

Kakuzu grasped Hidan’s hand just as he was about to get up, wrapping his fingers over ones just as scarred and calloused as his own. He pulled him back down next to him and tossed the covers over his shoulders.

Silently, and still firmly gripping his hand, Kakuzu seemed to settle down to sleep. When he closed his eyes this time, instead of seeing his nightmare, he saw Hidan smiling through a mouthful of blood at Orochimaru during his initiation. He saw Hidan laughing as he watched Kakuzu slip in blood after a rather brutal mission. And he saw him grinning as he affectionately hurled insults at Kakuzu on their travels.

“Ew, what are you doing?” Hidan scrunched his face but was already nestled down into the bed.

“Shut up, Hidan. Don’t ruin it.”

He heard the younger man chuckle, but he didn’t pull away. Kakuzu fell into a restful, dreamless sleep.


End file.
